Children of Sorting 1991
by Chihori Anigma
Summary: In here you will find stories about the lives of the children who were Sorted in 1991. Forty children, each with their own stories to tell. Some of them are sad and some of them are happy. In some you will spend an hour of their lives, in others you will spend it together with them. These are the stories of the children who were Sorted in 1991.
1. Black Sheep

**Black Sheep**

_A/N For 1991 challenge_

_Prompts: Sue Li (Ravenclaw), shine_

I didn't expect to be Sorted into Ravenclaw. I thought I would be Sorted into Hufflepuff or maybe Gryffindor. If I was not Sorted into one of those Houses then Slytherin as a last resort. Never Ravenclaw.

Sure, almost all my siblings had Sorted into Ravenclaw, but I was the dumb one. The one who never knew as much as the others. The one who was always behind in her studies. The one who just achieved at a regular pace, while everyone else in her family over-achieved.

My brothers often joked and called me 'the black sheep'. It was just a joke, but I knew it meant I wasn't as smart as the others, and so couldn't be in Ravenclaw like them.

So when the Sorting Hat said I'd shine in Ravenclaw I couldn't believe my ears.

"W-what?" I thought. I think my mouth might have hung open.

"I said you would shine in Ravenclaw." The Hat informed me grumpily. Then it shouted out that word. "RAVENCLAW!"

The blue and silver table erupted into cheers. I could dimly hear my siblings shouting my name as I stumbled to the table in a haze.

As I sat down my older brother clapped me on the back. "Not the black sheep after all, huh?"

I smiled. I belonged.

_A/N I'm not exactly happy with how this turned out but it's _much _better than the first draft._


	2. Stars

**Stars**

_A/N For 1991 Challenge_

_Prompts: Oliver Rivers (Hufflepuff), stars_

It was a starry night in 1980. Mrs. Rivers lay on her bed and in between the labor pains she had time to think, 'I've never seen so many stars in my life.'

An hour later her son was born. He was a handsome baby; dark brown eyes twinkled, like the stars out of his pink, wrinkled face.

"What should we name him?" said Mrs. Rivers.

"Oliver," answered her husband.

"Oliver Alastair," she agreed.

The midwife then spoke. She was an old, muggle woman and had hardly spoken all evening. "He was a child born under the stars," she said. "Children born under the stars are special, different. And they never last long. Treasure him while you can."

Mrs. Rivers laughed. What did an old, muggle woman know about seer-sight and divination? Her prediction was just fancy superstition.

* * *

"Mama, mama," Oliver called.

"Yes, Oliver?" Mrs. Rivers called back.

"Look at the stars, Mama. Look at the stars."

Mrs. Rivers came outside and hugged her five year old son. "Yes, they are very pretty," she told him. "Now go get ready for bed.

Oliver nodded and gazed up at the stars for a last look. His eyes twinkled back at them like two more stars.

After he had gone in Mrs. Rivers stayed out for a while, looking up at the stars her son so often talked about. She really couldn't understand his fascination with them. Yes, they were pretty, but so many other things were pretty and Oliver only talked about stars.

* * *

Mrs. Rivers sat at her kitchen table reading the letter she had just gotten from her son. She had sent him off to Hogwarts the day before, yet already missed him.

_Dear Mama and Papa, _the letter ran,

_I got Sorted into Hufflepuff._

_The ceiling in the Great Hall looks like the sky outside. Did you know that? Halfway through dinner the clouds cleared and we saw the stars. So many, Mama and Papa. They were sparkling and twinkling, They were so beautiful, so close._

The letter went on like this, describing the stars. Mrs. Rivers skimmed over the rest of the letter, not wanting to read about stars, but there was nothing else.

She was about to put the letter down when the last line caught her eye.

_And, oh Papa. Oh, Mama. The stars asked me to come to them. Not yet, I said. But I'll go to them someday._

_Love,_

_Oliver_

Mrs. Rivers shivered. She suddenly remembered what that old muggle woman had told her all those years ago, and she felt like it was a bad omen.

'Don't be silly, Estella', she told herself. 'It's just some foolish nonsense.

Even so, she quickly folded the letter up and put it in the back of her drawer, where she would forget it.

* * *

Oliver Rivers lay on the ground outside Hogwarts, quickly losing blood from a cutting spell that had been thrown at him.

The Final Battle raged all around, but Mrs. Rivers could not hear the curses and jinxes being thrown. She could not hear the running footsteps and the crying of the hurt. All she could hear as she knelt above her son was his shallow breathing and her own, trembling voice,

"Oliver. Oliver, my son. Don't die. Please don't die."

"It's fine, Mama. Don't worry." Oliver curled his fingers around her robes. "The stars want me to come to them. I am going. I love you."

That is how Oliver Alastair Rivers died, his fingers curled around his mama's robes and his dark brown eyes staring straight at the bright stars above him, looking for all the world like two stars themselves.

_Estella means 'star'._


	3. The Toy

**The Toy**

_A/N For 1991 challenge_

_Prompts: Seamus Finnegan (Gryffindor), mine_

_If I remember correctly Seamus was muggleborn._

"Mine! Mine!" The toddler clutched the toy to his chest protectively, glaring at his mother.

"Ah, alright Seamus. I only wanted to wash it…"

A few days later Seamus sat on his aunt's lap at a family picnic.

"Can I see this?" his aunt asked, reaching out for the toy.

"Mine! Mine!" Seamus gave her one of his cute death-glares.

"Oh. Alright." His aunt laughed and dropped her hand. Seamus toddled off somewhere.

It was getting dark, and the mothers were packing up the picnic things. A few feet away Seamus and his cousin, Gwendolyn were playing.

Gwendolyn tried to take the toy away from Seamus. Seamus slapped her and yelled out, "Mine! Mine!" G

Gwendolyn burst out crying.

"Seamus! Say sorry! You have to share." His uncle reprimanded him, and gently tried to unclench the toy from Seamus' hand.

"Mine! Mine!" Seamus screeched.

"That's enough, Seamus! Time-out now." His mother plopped Seamus in the carriage and kept on an eye on him while continuing to pack up.

"It's funny how possessive he is of that wizard's toy hat," his aunt remarked.

"Yes, it is," agreed his mother.


	4. Madam Malkin

**Madam****Malkin**

_A/N 1991 Challenge_

_Prompts: Gregory Goyle (Slytherin), clothes_

_Thank You to all my reviewers and followers._

"Thank Merlin! I was afraid he might have been a squib!"

"Shhhh! don't say such things, we're purebloods!"

Two women sat in a dark, messy room. Their names were Mrs. and Grandmother Goyle. Mrs. Goyle held an envelope with a cracked, red seal in her hand.

Inside were two pieces of parchment. One started, 'We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.'

The other was a list of things to buy for the school. One of them was 'Three sets of plain work robes. (Black)'.

"We'll have to go to Madam Malkin's."

"Why?" interrupted a fat boy who had just entered the room.

"To get you new robes for Hogwarts, Gregory," said his mother.

Gregory frowned, thinking over what his mother had just said. "But I don't want to…"

His mother grabbed his and his grandmothers' arms, and dragged them over to the fire place. "Madam Malkin's," she said clearly, throwing in some powder. The flames turned green and the threesome stepped through them into a dark store.

A thin-lipped woman appeared and looked over Gregory. "For Hogwarts, I suppose?"

"Yes."

"Fine. Go." The woman pushed Grandmother and Mrs. Goyle out of the store and turned to Gregory. "Stay there."

Gregory did not move an inch, fearing the woman who came back a few minutes later with an armful of black robes.

"Stand still," she ordered. Gregory did indeed stand still, not daring to twitch a hair.

If he had been a differently shaped boy he would have been fitted quickly. However he was short and fat and somewhat pear-shaped.

Madam Malkin did not approve of his body shape, but she liked his conduct. Because of this she only snapped at him four times during the hour he was in her stores,

Gregory, himself, though scared of the fearsome lady, liked her.

That is how the two became friends.


	5. Expelliarmus

**Expelliarmus**

_A/N 1991 Challenge_

_Prompts: Justin Finch-Fletchly (Hufflepuff), study_

"Yikes, why are they giving us so much homework?" I complained to my best friend, Ernest Macmillian.

"The OWLS are in three months!" Hermione Granger said, stalking past us, nose in the aur.

"Exactly! They're in _three _months!" I shouted after her.

"Three months is a very short amount of time!" Hermione retorted.

"Actually, it's preety long on studying terms." Ernest told her.

"He's right!" I don't know why I was screaming. I usually never started a fight. Granger was just so annoying.

"You'll see that studying pays off!" she shouted angrily and pulled her wand out, pointing it at me.

"Uh, Justin, run. That girl is the best witch in our year." Ernest whispered to me.

"So?" I said, pulling out my own wand.

"Expelliarus!" Hermione's wand flew out of her hand and landed on the floor next to me. She grabbed it and ran away.

"You just defeated the best witch in our year with with 'expelliarmus'!"

"Well, Harry always said it works," I smiled. Ernest laughed and we walked off to visit the kitchens.


	6. I'm a Failure

**I'm A Failure**

_A/N: 1991 Challenge_

_Prompts: Neville Longbottom, complete_

"Maybe he's a squib?" my grandmother said to my older cousin, as I played on the floor.

I was only three and did not know what the word meant.

* * *

My grandmother gave me a disappointed look as I asked for a toy placed on top of a bookshelf.

"Get it yourself," she said. "You know you can."

I actually knew I couldn't, but at five I knew my grandmother well enough to know she wanted me to use accidental magic to get the toy.

I stretched out my arm and begged for the toy to come to me. Nothing happened; after a while my grandmother left the room.

I immediately grabbed a small, plastic chair and put it on top of the coffee table. I climbed on top and tried to jump on the bookcase.

CRASH! My feet lay under a bunch of books, the bookcase itself falling just shy of them. I picked myself up, unhurt and looked for the toy.

"Oh, Neville." My grandmother came rushing into the room after hearing the crash. Her tone was disapproving so I didn't reply.

* * *

I wanted to scream, but I kept quiet. My uncle was dangling me upside-down out of an upstairs window. Then he dropped me.

My body curled up into a ball as I fell through the air, down, down, down…

Any moment I was going to die, I thought. Any moment my head was going to crash into the rocks below and I would be goo.

I landed on the rocks and bounced! I bounced again and again until I came to the garden gate. I started crying and sobbing.

My whole family rushed out of the house. "Neville! Stop crying at once! You just did accidental magic! You are not a squib!"

My older cousin picked me u and carried me back into the house.

That night I was happy. My family pampered me, giving me all the sweets and cakes I wanted. They told me again and again how great it was that I was not a squib after all.

* * *

I was nine years old and passing the living room when I heard my grandmother say my name.

"He hasn't done any accidental magic since he fell out of the window when he was eight." My grandmother's voice.

"Maybe he's a squib after all." My uncle.

"No! No! He can't be a squib! That would be a disgrace to the family name!"

I ran to the kitchen and began stuffing my face with whatever I saw, tears streaming down my face.

* * *

I heard Harry, Hermione and Ron planning to go through the trap-door that night. That was too dangerous for 11-year olds. I couldn't let them do it. They were my friends.

That night I hid in the Common Room waiting for Harry, Ron and Hermione. When they came I stood in front of the Fat Lady's portrait.

"You can't do this! It's too dangerous!"

"Neville…we have to do this. Let us through." Harry didn't know what he was talking about. He should tell an adult. He shouldn't be doing it himself!

"Neville…" Harry started again.

Hermione turned her wand on me. "Perfecius Totallus!"

My body banged onto the floor. I tried to move, but couldn't and one thought filled my head, 'I'm a failure. Failure. Failure. Failure."

I thought about all the times that year a spell had gone wrong or my potion had exploded. There were a lot of them. Maybe I was a squib.

And now I hadn't been able to do what even a muggle was capable of doing. I hadn't been able to save my friends.

* * *

McGonagall called me up to her desk after Transfiguration in the beginning of 3rd year. I thought that she was going to tell me that there had been a mistake. That I hadn't passed the exams. That I was going to be sent back to Second year.

I walked up to her with trembling legs. After everyone had gone, she began.

"Neville, you will be able to do better in class if you believe in yourself. Every year you show in the exams how smart you really are.

"If you need extra help, I, or any of the other professors would be glad to give you private lessons."

_Liar! _Part of my brain was shouting at her. _Liar! I believe in myself! I'm just not good at magic!_

The other part of my brain was talking to me. _See, _it mocked. _See how dumb you are. McGonagall wants you to take extra lessons._

* * *

I woke up in the Hospital Room and everything flooded into my mind. I remembered the battle in the Ministry. I remembered the Death Eaters. I remembered the spells I had done correctly and all the Death Eaters I hexed.

I felt proud of myself. I had helped the Light Side. I had helped to win the battle.

Maybe I wasn't such a failure.


	7. Cheater of Death

An old man lies in a bed that is placed in a small, white room. The only other furniture is a chair and dresser. The blankets the man is lying under are stamped 'Lockwood Wizards Nursing Home'.

Someone enters the room. The man lying on the bed reaches for his glasses and puts them on, pushing up his hair and showing a lightning scar on his forehead as he does so. The visitor comes closer and sits on the chair. He lets go of his scythe and it floats in the air. His own body is only a black shimmer, faintly shaped like a man.

Harry strains to see.

"Ah, it's you, Death," he says, greeting him as if he was an old friend.

"It is me," Death agrees.

"Have you come to take me away?" Harry asks.

"No," says Death.

Harry stays silent for a long time. Finally he asks, "Why?"

Death flashes memories in front of Harry's eyes.

_17 year old Harry standing in front of Voldemort as the evil man casts the spell that brings Death. Death coming and letting Harry talk to Albus Dumbledore. Harry leaving Death and coming back to Life._

"You cheated me once, Potter," says Death, "But never again. You left me when I wanted you and now I will leave you when you want me.

"I have taken your friends, wife and children. Life has taken your grandchildren. They would rather enjoy her than talk with you, is that not so?

"Now, you want to die. To reunite with the people I have taken from you. You will not die though. You will stay alive and centuries will pass until everybody has forgotten you and you remain to them only a half-believed legend. Like Merlin. Like Circe. Like Orpheus. I do not easily forgive the people who have tricked me. And I will not forgive you."

Death takes his staff and leaves the small room, while the man on the bed takes off his glasses and contemplates the endless eternity he will endure.

**AN: Challenge: 1991 Challenge**

**Prompts: Yes, Harry Potter**


	8. Crabbe's Death

The Fiendfyre was behind me. It wouldn't stop coming. It was gaining on me. I tried every spell I knew to stop it.

"Aguamenti! "I yelled again and again.

The Fiendfyre caught up with me. It started burning my clothes.

"Make it stop! Make it stop!" I shouted until my throat was hoarse.

I saw Draco look back at me. I thought he was going to save me, but he kept on running.

Something fell down in front of me. It was a fake tree with a bright red apple on the top. It was the last thing I saw.

**A/N: Challenge: 1991 Challenge**

**Prompts: Vincent Crabbe, Slytherin**

**Challenge: The Foreign Meal Challenge**

**Prompts:**_**Schug- **_**Bet you can't say this correctly. Anyways, this is like horseradish except much, much spicier (and greener). Believe me you'll want only a little of this. Write a drabble.**

**Write about the **_**cruciatus **_**curse. Alt, write about a Slytherin.**


	9. Dyslexic

I'll always remember the morning Professor McGonagall walked through the door. It was a few days after my birthday, on a Saturday and I was still in my pajamas. My mother opened the door and I stood behind her, hoping it was my aunt who had promised to come for a visit.

Instead a strange woman stood on the doorstep. She was dressed in a prim skirt and an old-fashioned blouse. Her grey hair was tied up in a tight bun and her stance was forbidding. But for all her imposing appearance she had a twinkle in her eye that I liked immediately.

She swept into our house and introduced herself as 'Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.' Before we had time to digest this she handed me a letter made of a weird-feeling paper, saying, "This is for you Lisa."

I took the letter hesitantly, blushing as I opened it. I put it to my eyes and stood there for what seemed an eternity. The letter was pure nonsense to me. The first line was **orHgwast choSol of tichcatWfr and zriWadry** and everything else was just the same.

My mother took the letter from my hand. "Lisa has dyslexia," she said apologetically and read the letter out loud.

Eventually Professor McGonagall convinced my parents that the letter was not a hoax and I entered Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, or as it looked to me, orHgwast choSol of tichcatWfr and zriWadry.

Until Fifth Year everything was fine. I hated History of Magic so I didn't care that we had to read from our book and Padma always whispered to me what was written on the board in Potions. In most of the other classes we didn't have to read much and Professor Flitwick charmed a quill for me so it would write what I told it.

However, that was until Fifth Year. The first class I had trouble in was Defence Against the Dark Arts. When we entered Professor Umbridge was already sitting at her desk and after her little patronizing speech she told us to open our book and start reading.

Morag was sitting next to me and when I asked her to she started reading aloud for me. We had read a good way when a condescending voice interrupted us. "May I ask what you are doing, Miss MacDougal and Miss Turpin?"

"I…I can't read Professor," I stammered. "I have…I have dyslexia."

"Nonsense!" Umbridge said. "A 14-year old girl can't read! Get on with your _own _work."

"Yes…yes, Professor," I answered.

I looked down at my book, but even if I hadn't had dyslexia I wouldn't have been able to read what was written because my eyes were full of tears. I only wished my Muggle school had helped me with my problem.

**A/N: Yes, **_**there are **_**14 year olds who can't read because they have really bad dyslexia and their school never gave them the help they needed. Around 1 out of every 10 people has dyslexia, but scholls are more than reluctant to help.**

**Most people with dyslexia can read basic things, but that does not really help if you want to get into college and you don't have at least a thing saying that you can do writing projects and other things differently or something like that.**

**Challenge: 1991 Challenge**

**Prompts: Lisa Turpin, Ravenclaw**


	10. Hannukah in Hogwarts

**A NEW ARTICLE BY RITA SKEETER!**

_**Hogwarts Promotes Racism!**_

England and Scotland may be Christian countries and Hogwarts' students may be mainly Christian, but there are other faiths too and Hogwarts ignores them, promoting racism, says Rita Skeeter in an all-new interview:

"Hogwarts continues to fill its tables with food in the month of Ramadan," sniffles Mahirah ibn-Ibrahim, a Muslim girl, obviously finding it hard to keep her religion while residing in xenophobic Hogwarts. "Making it harder for me to fast."

"And I can't find even one piece of matzah at Passover time," Daniel Schwartz, a handsome 16- year old, tells me.

But, what takes the biscuit is the story of poor, little Anthony Goldstein, a first-year who almost drowned himself because of homesickness during the holiday of Hanukkah.

A giggle was heard and quickly muffled.

"Shhh…" said someone else, not so quietly.

Three pairs of stocking feet slipped over the old stones.

Three heads peeked into the empty Great Hall.

"Okay, Terry, Michael," said one. "Nobody is here."

"Okay, Anthony," said the other heads.

Three little boys walked into the giant room.

"Hey," said Terry. "Does anyone know why there is a full water trough in here?"

"No," answered the other two boys, again unsuccessfully trying to mask their giggles.

Anthony pulled a strange metal thing out from behind his back. The centre of the thing was a long metal stick and out of each side curved four more metal sticks, though none of them were as high as the central stick.

"That thing is so weird, Anthony," Michael said.

"It's called a 'menorah'," replied Anthony, a little insulted. He put it up on a window sill. Terry gave him matches and Michael passed him candles. He stuck two candles in the menorah, one in the tall stick and one in the right-most stick. Then he lit them.

"Ma'oz tzur…" he began to sing. Giggling, Michael and Terry joined him, reading from papers.

"Dvir kodsho hevi'ani," they started singing the third stanza. Suddenly, one of the candles fell over into the other candle. Anthony grabbed the metal menorah and shoved it into the water trough. Michael and Terry, eager to help, started pushing the menorah deeper into the water when they accidently pushed Anthony into the trough.

Yelling, they tried to help him out.

"What is going on here?" asked a drawling voice.

Terry and Michael jumped and turned around, dropping Anthony back into the water. Behind them was Professor Snape.

"You see, sir…" "We're very sorry, sir…" "It was all a mistake, sir…"

**A/N: Challenges: The 1991 Challenge, The Great Maze Chall/Comp**

**Prompts: December and Anthony Goldstein, ****What a [cocky] man! You take the left path when you hear some people talking around you about someone. She bugs many people to whom she's known. Her stories are false, their words are not shown. What's her latest scoop?**


	11. Agony

He was sitting in the darkest corner of the room between the potions cupboard and the wall. Maybe he thought that sitting there made it harder to find him, or maybe he felt safer there in a place no one ever came.

She saw him there, his arms wrapped around his knees which were pulled up to his chin. He wasn't crying, but staring at the door, not really seeing anything. When she came in he jumped and fear flitted across his face. He looked as if he wanted to run.

She ignored him at first, looked through the potions cupboard on the other side of the room as if she hadn't seen him. He knew better and stood up.

"Hey, Pansy, how are you?" The tears he was holding back made his voice come out rough and scratchy.

"I'm fine." She turned around. "But how are _you, _Draco?"

"I'm fine, too. Thank you for asking." He turned to leave.

"Okay, shall we try that again?"

"What?" he asked his hand already turning the handle.

"I'm your girlfriend, Draco!" She started to explode. "I'm your girlfriend, but you never tell me anything! You never tell anyone anything! And now you've told Snape you're staying at Hogwarts for Christmas and then you went and disappeared for the rest of the day! And now I find you here in the empty potions classroom hiding in a corner and when I try to talk you _run away_!"

"Pansy, Pansy..." He let go of the door handle and desperately tried to think of a way to calm his girlfriend down. "I love you."

"You say that, but you always run away from me when you aren't happy. If you really loved me you would trust me and tell me when things are going wrong."

He looked desperately for a way out of the situation he was in. If he left Pansy would never forgive him, if he ran out wildly she would chase after him, if he stayed she would make him tell everything. He could tell, she would understand, she could sympathise; no, he couldn't. If he told she would think him weak, she wouldn't want to go out with him any more.

"I'm sorry, Pansy," he said, so quietly she couldn't hear and turned and left.

She was left in the abandoned potions classroom with "Draco" on her lips. He was running, running through the hallways, empty with everyone at dinner, a storm thundering inside him.

Voldemort had made him his assasin, something he did not want to be. At first, he had liked the idea, putting Dumbledore out of the way, that fool and player of favorites. But when he had seen what happened to Bell he realized he didn't want to be the assain. He realized what the neacklace could acytually do-kill someone. But he had to kill his headmaster. If he didn't the dark Lord would think he was weak. His father would think he was waek. And his mother would think he was weak.

He couldn't let his mother think he was weak. She already thought he was weak. Hadn't she asked snape to cover for him? So whatever happened, whatever friendships he lost, no matter how much he was degraded in the eyes of his felloe Slytherins he would kill Dumbledore.

He leaned against a forgotten pumpkin from Halloween left next to the lake and cried out all the tears he wanted to keep in.

**Challenges:1991 Challenge, Lolita Challenge, Return of the Daily Weird Prompt Thing Speed Writing Comp, Acrostic-y Challenge**

**Prompts:Draco Malfoy and pumpkin, ****MIHO MATSUDA – Write about someone crying or hiding tears, ****A-Agitated, "Shall we try that again?"**


	12. Ask Me to the Yule Ball

Dear Diary,

I'm really worried about Harry. He's just going to go in to a deadly competition because a _cup _picked his name! He's not even the right age for it. What if someone wants to kill him and somehow made the cup pick his name? We all know how many enemies he has.

And he did really well on the First Task, but what if he fails the Second Task? He still hasn't opened the egg and he doesn't even seem to be trying.

He also doesn't have a date for the Yule Ball yet. I've tried to advise him on getting one, but he just won't listen! Ron doesn't have a date either. I hoped he would ask me out, now, however, it's pretty clear he won't so I should see about getting a different date.

I don't like any of the boys I know, though. Maybe I should ask Victor Krum out? He's so important and he's so _polite_. He always opens doors for me and pulls out chairs at the library. Not that I walk past him on purpose; we happen to like the same sections of the library. He's usually there, but right now he's at the lake with a few of his friends, having a snowball fight.

I think I'll ask him out. Next time I see him at the library I'll ask. He should go there soon. It's getting dark out.

Yours truly,

Hermione Jean Granger

Dear Diary,

He asked me to the Yule Ball! I was about to ask him if he wanted to come with me to it when asked! And he did it so nicely!

He went down on one knee and held my hand and said, "Her-my-ninny, vill you come vith me to the Yule Ball?"

Of course I said yes. Now I need a dress. I'll write to Mum to send me one.

Yours truly,

Hermione Jean Granger

**Challenges: 1991 Challenge, Journey to Hogwarts**

**Prompts: Hermione Granger and books, Amanuensis Quills- You go into the quill shop. Maybe it's not the most exciting destination, but you know you'll have to do a lot of writing at Hogwarts. Write a journal fic including the prompts important, lake, and unknown.**


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